


I want to go home, please

by AireHaleinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst Sterek, Angst and Feels, Derek finds out about Scott’s plan, Derek is not happy about it, Derek scares Stiles, Hurt Derek, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, One Shot, Season 2, Stiles Comforts Derek, Threats of Violence, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AireHaleinski/pseuds/AireHaleinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing moment from season 2 episode 10. It’s basically what I think happened to Stiles and Derek, after Scott and Gerard made their deal in the hallway of the police station. </p><p>“His green eyes met with Stiles’ amber ones for a millisecond more that he cared to admit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want to go home, please

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot to my beta @pstoker, that revised the story with patience! You’re the best! I hope you all enjoy the fic (I’m not particularly good with beginning or ending notes, sorry, I dunno what to say…)  
> Just enjoy the fic!  
> (Tell me if I need to add more tags)

Every step sounded like a gunshot through his heart. 

Scott and Gerard left each other’s sides, knowing that they would meet again in the future. Worried and fast were Scott’s steps, through the corridors of the police station, while slow and devious were the old Argent’s, who was wearing a disgustingly sadistic smirk on his face. 

The two of them weren’t completely sure that the plan against the Kanima would have worked, so they parted ways, each to plain out their own final strategy. 

The problem was that Scott had almost nothing on his mind but Allison’s outburst of “Stay out of my way” – uttered just seconds before. She was so incredibly willing to kill now - so distant from the angel that Scott remembered – the one that forgot a pen during their first day at school together. 

Meanwhile, Gerard was planning in minute detail the real conspiracy, the one that would have spared very few fighters on that damn battlefield. 

Neither of them - both so distracted by their own problems - had noticed Derek Hale’s presence behind the hallway.  
The werewolf remained still, their voices still echoing in his head: an acid and stinging sense of betrayal settled firmly in his throat, so different from the chaos his mind was drifting into.  
Being betrayed by someone you considered a brother was an insult that Derek couldn’t tolerate. 

«We’re brothers, Scott»

He thought that labelling him as a brother would have prevented Scott from allying with the enemy, as Derek had done in the past by falling miserably in love with the traitorous Kate Argent. 

“But Scott is a teenage boy; Scott is in love with Chris Argent’s daughter; Scott is Lydia Martin’s friend, the girl who let inconsiderate Peter Hale to come back to life; Scott chose to be by your side just to spy on you, he doesn’t consider you his Alpha, let alone his brother…” a tiny fragment of Derek’s mind whispered slyly. It was a part he hardly kept at bay these days, an infinitesimal fraction of his brain that had the innate capacity of turning him into a potential killer.  
Even his wolf wasn’t that wild. 

Scott’s steps were a gunshot through his heart, his words a slap to his face: Derek knew he was going to struggle a lot to get over this. 

Better the Argents than the Hales, according to Scott.  
Better the unscrupulous killers, than the poor innocents.  
In the end Scott trusted them; he even believed that Peter’s comatose state actually had an explanation, that there was a logical purpose behind the fire. 

Just that thought turned itself into persistent little bites under Derek’s skin.  
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling an impressive strength all over his arms, like he needed to surround them around a body, being possibly still alive.  
He swore to himself he wouldn’t let this betrayal get away so easily.  
Derek felt revenge all over his body, the acid taste slowly filling his mouth. 

Derek wanted to kill. 

A sigh came from the floor, showing the Alpha of the existence of a breathing bundle of flesh in front of him.  
For an insane moment, Derek thought about it as the “unlucky victim of his rage”, but only after squeezing briefly his eyes and using his sense of smell, Derek realized who was really lying there. 

It was Stiles. 

Stiles, Scott’s best friend.  
Stiles, the mind of every one of Scott’s plans.  
Stiles, the one who simply googled “werewolf”, trying to understand what was going on with his friend, and by chance trying to help him.  
Stiles, the human still paralyzed after the Kanima’s scratch.  
Stiles, who surely knew of Scott’s betrayal and even then, he kept on being the double agent, even offering help to the Alpha. 

The same Stiles that Derek shoved against the wall. He began feeling an innate rage that he had never thought he could feel for the Sheriff’s son. 

Derek stared at Stiles weakened body, without feeling even the slightest bit of pity for the stupid kid, while his rage actually shouted in his chest: “Hurt him, hurt him as much as you can, no one cared about not hurting you, Derek.” 

His red eyes and the fangs glanced at Stiles’ face, with such a strong intensity that it seemed they wanted to find the ideal point to attack him for death. 

Derek was like a bull being taunted, with the red cape waving in front of his eyes.

And Stiles was that cape.

«You knew! You knew everything, it was all part of a bigger plan, of course it was … even Deaton who sent me here, he knew! It was all a damn plan to tear me apart, just as Argent commanded…» he growled at Stiles with a cold and sharp voice, not caring about the fact that Stiles was still partially paralysed. 

Derek already had the scene on his mind, with a smirking Stiles who would have probably joked about his “sour” nature, waiting for “Yeah, idiot, it was all planned and you lost”, but the reality was very different from what his fiendish imagination conjured. 

Stiles leaned against Derek for support, his legs still shaking and a long, tragic sob was clinging to the back of his throat. 

«Derek p-please, no! I didn’t… I’ve never knew anything about their agreement!».

«Stop lying to me Stiles! Stop it or I’m going to kill you right now! You’re Scott’s best friend, you’re like a brother to him… he trusts YOU, not me! I bet he planned the whole thing with you, and maybe even with Allison! You’re just two sons of … »

 

But Derek couldn’t finish his sentence, because the hand that was around Stiles’ neck – which he didn’t remember placing there – was feeling the rapid pulse under his warm skin, and it was already covered in desperate tears. 

It was difficult for Stiles to even put together more than two words, between the sobs and his shortened breath. It was probably going to be his last talk anyway, so he just needed to start. 

«Derek l - look at me and t-tell me if I’m lying. You can sense it easily! I... I didn’t know that Scott had a plan with Gerard, I just found out like you! Look at me… please I just want all of this to stop, I can’t stand it anymore! »

Stiles’ words turned on the lights in Derek’s mind: the wolf moved his hand away from Stiles’ neck abruptly, staring deeply to his amber eyes.  
No lie or manipulation was hiding in them. 

His eyes reflected black fear, honest and pure, like someone who was genuinely scared by events that they couldn’t control. That was the main colour, they were like pupils that had been too blown. 

Fear that was coming from all over Stiles; hard to breathe in, bitter and with a metallic aftertaste, same as the blood that was disseminated all over the police station that night. 

Derek knew by heart the taste of fear. 

He had never seen Stiles so genuinely scared and out of control, still unable to stop the shaking of his legs.  
A powerful thought exploded in Derek’s muddled brain, so strong that he held his breath, letting his eyes bleed less red, and allowing more of his natural green. 

 

The truth was that Stiles had never asked to be immersed into that supernatural world; Stiles had to put up with the consequences of Scott’s transformations with more struggle every time; Stiles just wanted to live his teenage life, graduate and possibly marry Lydia Martin and stay close to his dad, the same Sheriff still lying unconscious in the other room. 

The same Sheriff who was the only family member left to Stiles. 

«Come on Sheriff, wake up, wake up! » someone shouted. Just like Derek, Stiles couldn’t ignore the tears coming from another frightened human: Melissa Mc Call, still shocked over the discovery of her son’s supernatural state.  
Melissa who, just like Stiles, wasn’t supernatural at all. 

«I still can’t move! My dad is in that room we need to help him n-now! Please don’t kill me Derek, I just… I just want to go away with my father from this mess. Take us home, please…»

Stiles just whispered this, but for Derek’s super senses, that whisper felt like a scream. 

Derek shook his head, a strange expression of pity mixed with guilt showed up on his face.  
Stiles wasn’t to blame.  
Stiles was frustrated, just like him.  
Stiles was asking for help from someone who a few seconds before was trying to strangle him: that was the thought that hit Derek the most.

Derek put his arm around Stiles’ body, carrying him to the room where Sheriff Stilinski was still lying passed out. 

«I didn’t mean to… you know, do that. » Derek found himself blurting out, in a pathetic attempt to apologize. 

«I didn’t know that Scott had allied with the Argents, I swear. I would have told him not to, otherwise. He’s disappointed me too. »

Derek and Stiles blurted awkwardly a few apologies at the same moment, but Derek felt he didn’t need Stiles’ ones, thanks to his wolf senses.

Derek opened the prison cell where Melissa was staying, talking to her with a much softer tone for someone who was showing a sour face just a few seconds before.  
Stop threats for that night.  
«Take the Sheriff with you, and go to the Jeep. I won’t hurt you I promise».

Stiles stared softly at Derek, while talking to a nearly scared – to - paralysis Melissa.  
«You can trust him, Mrs McCall» he whispered with a tired, but assuring voice, glancing at his dad’s body. Melissa, after some hesitation, but reassured by Stiles, easily brought him around to consciousness. 

Derek couldn’t talk; he was starting up the Jeep, intent on driving the three unlucky humans back home. 

He didn’t manage to speak to Stiles, to thank him for those few words “you can trust him” that opened a little way into his damaged heart.  
Because Stiles has never been a double agent like Scott.  
Stiles repeatedly helped him, saving him from mortal dangers because he truly worried about him, so much that he let him drive his lovely Jeep.  
So much that he managed not to have a breakdown for a long time, until Derek broke him tonight. 

This was what Derek thought about, even when he was leaving a barely walking Stiles, with a still dazed Sheriff who didn’t even recognize him, in front of their house. Then, ashamed by his anger and avoiding their eyes, he suggested, «Have a rest, it was a stressful day for you. Get some sleep, if you can, I’ll protect you tonight ».  
His green eyes met with Stiles’ amber ones for a millisecond more that he cared to admit. 

The sincerity in Stiles’ pupils hurt him.  
Because Stiles didn’t consider Derek an abomination, he thought he was a good werewolf, who was looking for justice, instead of revenge, and that made all the difference. 

«Sorry…» muttered Derek, when Stiles had already closed the door behind him, his father firmly on his side. 

Derek looked at the sky, finding false comfort from the silence of the stars, leaning on the Stilinski’s front door, trying to calm the beats of his heart that was still full of anger and betrayal. 

False comfort, because he knew that behind that door, inside the house he offered protection to, trying to repair his damage, was bundle of nerves called Stiles Stilinski who was closing his amber eyes, trying to fall asleep.  
That was his real comfort.


End file.
